A Different Sort of Hunger
by avecamour3
Summary: What caused Bella to turn to her eating disorder? And, is this a case of the Cullens simply being blind to something they hope isn’t happening, or do they know more than Bella thinks they do? Set during “Twilight.”
1. There's No Closing Pandora's Box

Disclaimer: I don't own "Twilight".

Chapter 1: There's No Closing Pandora's Box

Bella's POV

"Hello, love," calls an angelic voice from my window.

My heart is racing wildly in my chest as I simultaneously press the sleep button on my computer and turn to face him. He had left to go hunting earlier in the day with Emmet and I hadn't been expecting him to be back for a few minutes yet. _Please, don't let him have seen what I was looking at, _I silently pray.

"You look flushed, is everything alright?" Why must he be so observant? I still am not sure how much, if anything, he has seen, and it's causing me to feel very jumpy. _Be calm. Be calm._ "Oh, I'm fine Edward. You just startled me is all."

Before I know it he's next to me, gazing at me intently with those golden eyes. At first I can only register his sweet breath caressing my face, but then I come fully back to reality and realize that he's quietly speaking to me. "You can always tell me anything, Bella. You're my everything and I'll always take care of you." Okay, now I'm beginning to panic. Did he see the screen? What if Alice had had a vision about me and_ this_? Have I been acting strangely lately? No, I'm definitely reading into what he's saying. Time to distract Edward before he starts trying to mesmerize this out of me.

"I know that Edward and I'd do anything for you as well. I'm feeling kind of tired right now, would you sing me my lullaby?" For effect I fake a yawn. I'm all ready for bed so he just scoops me up and tucks me in. He kisses my forehead and begins to sing softly to me. In that moment I feel almost content. The feeling doesn't last long. Holy crow, I'm freezing. I've grown accustomed to Edward's low temperature, and, as it's a part of him, I love it; this is different though, I'm cold to my very core. I should be used to this, but sometimes it's much worse than others- right now is one such time. "Bella, you're shivering. I'll get you a couple more blankets and make you something hot to drink." With that he lithely slides from the bed and is gone from my room.

In an instant he's back and covering me with blankets. "You're amazing. Thank you. I feel much better with these; I'll skip having anything to drink so I don't have to leave the coziness of this bed to brush my teeth again." That's definitely an acceptable excuse. I know he would bring me hot chocolate and there is no possible way I could drink a cup of that full-calorie stuff that Charlie likes, let alone be able to face the scale after doing so. I can faintly make out his glorious features in the dark and I see the corners of his mouth curve downward. "Bel-," he begins to say my name, but I cut him off with a question that I know will distract him. "Will you ever let me become like you?" Good thing I'm not really expecting an answer tonight, because he just begins singing to me again.

* * *

My mind feels foggy and my eyes are fighting to block out the early morning light that's intruding into my room. I don't want to wake up, but Edward is gently rubbing my arm to signal to me that it's time to get ready for school. I manage to fully come around and am in awe of the sight before me. It can't be possible to ever become accustomed to someone as perfect as Edward. "Good morning, beautiful." Inwardly I cringe. Edward must notice how fat I'm looking and be trying to make me feel better. Pretending everything is normal is key though, so I flash him a smile and start to get off of my bed for a 'human moment,' as we call them. My feet never even hit the floor though. After a disorientated second I realize that he has me sitting on his lap. Edward's face is slowly moving towards mine and all that's going through my mind is the fact that I want to cry.

He gives me a quick kiss. Normally I'd try to temp him to overstep his boundaries, but right now I can't escape quickly enough. Things have been different ever since _that _day, the day when it all came back to me. Well, it's not so much then that I changed actually**. ** It started out so slowly that I didn't even realize what was happening until, all at once, it hit me that I'm just not the same Bella I used to be. Sometimes I ask myself if things would be different right now if I hadn't turned to the feeling of hunger for comfort…for punishment. But I'll never regret doing so- it helps more than it hurts. As true as that is, I'm still dreading one part of my morning ritual and I need to get to it before I can't bring myself to go through with it. "I had better start getting ready or I'll make us both late," I say as I attempt to disentangle myself from Edward's embrace. When he realizes I'm trying to get up he releases his hold on me, a look of hurt in his eyes. I never intended for this to infiltrate every area of my life, but it's hard to act the same when it's not safe to let anyone get too close- even Edward…especially Edward. It takes all of my strength to walk, rather than run, from my room in that moment.

There it sits, so small and yet possessing the power to break me. I gingerly step onto the scale and use my toes to cover the area where the digits are to appear. Slowly I inch them away to display my weight- 96.5 pounds. The same as yesterday, how can this be? I shocked everyone by running the track in gym class- stumbling all the while, though that was no surprise**. **Not only that, but, by some miracle, I was once again successful in hiding my new eating habits at lunchtime from all of the Cullens. _Where did I go wrong? Where?_ I'm brought out of my reverie by the tears that I feel slowly rolling down my face. Pathetic. At this point I should know better than to get my hopes up.

I mechanically finish the rest of my morning routine and head back to my room to grab my bag. _Eggs_? Oh no, Edward's cooking me breakfast. Should I pretend I'm feeling under the weather? I'm a terrible liar, despite the fact that my life has become a complete sham, and, so, I push that idea aside. Well, I could use my clumsiness to my advantage for once and "accidentally" knock the plate off of the table. I feel awful just thinking that, but it's the best plan I can come up with right now.

I slowly make my way down the stairs. "Breakfast smells amazing," I say, trying to keep the disgust out of my voice and off of my face. He turns to give me that crooked grin that I love so much and for the briefest of moments I consider having one bite just to keep him happy. No. Nothing will ever get better if I eat. "Bella, are you going to try them?" His beautiful voice cuts into my thoughts and I realize that he has set the plate on the table already. This is going to be tricky, but I can do it. I begin to walk over to the table and just as I reach my place I slip and manage to knock the food onto the floor in the process of trying not to lose my balance. I hope my intent wasn't too obvious. Edward is right by my side, steadying me, which I'm glad for because I couldn't have faked that well enough to remain standing on my own. "Bella, are you alright?" His voice is full of concern. Concern that I don't deserve. "I-I'm fine," my voice trembles due to unshed tears. This guilt may very well consume me.

"I'll clean this up fast and then we'll find you something else to have, how does that sound?" My personal Greek god says to me. "You don't need to do that. I'll take care of it." I know it's a losing battle, for he already has the broom in his hand and is beginning to sweep up the mess I created.

"There. It's as if it never happened," Edward says sweetly to me. "Thank you for doing that. We should probably get going now." To keep him from getting suspicious I grab myself a granola bar before starting on my way out the door**. ** As a precaution against Alice I'm careful to not decide anything for certain, but I still know I'll just throw it out in the girls' bathroom. Edward will never find out. So far so good, my stomach is empty and as of yet no food has been forced upon me. I hope this lucky streak continues.

**Author's Note: I have to share that I'm really nervous submitting this, because I'm scared it's completely awful (I've never written just in my free time before). I appreciate you having found my story :).**


	2. Wishing to Escape the Labyrinth

Chapter 2: Wishing to Escape the Labyrinth

Bella's POV

I'm sitting in Biology with Edward when he suggests that we head over to his house after school. According to Alice, Charlie is planning on going down to La Push tonight to visit Billy. Avoiding the inevitable is impossible, I suppose. "That sounds like fun," I say, trying to sound as if I truly mean it. Mr. Banner enters the classroom then, giving me the chance to get my freshly arisen anxiety under control. He announces that we'll be watching a video on the Galapagos Islands. What a relief. Being on edge constantly is exhausting, and I don't know how much longer I can keep my eyes from snapping shut.

The next thing I'm aware of is the shuffling of feet and the loud voices of students calling to one another as they're released from their classes. I look to my left and find Edward regarding me thoughtfully. "Today could be a good day to skip," he puts forth.

"What? But I have Gym!" I shouldn't have said that. "I mean, I really ought to stay. Coach Clapp may begin deducting points from my grade if he gets suspicious of why I'm missing." I need to be there. We're still on the track and field unit, and I'm not giving up the chance to burn off so many extra calories.

* * *

How could I ever have hated running? Each step I take allows me to imagine putting more distance between the past and myself. If only I truly could manage do that. As I feel the soreness in my legs increase, I strive all the harder to speed up. This is as close as it comes to escaping. However, before managing to actually feel as if freedom is within my reach, the bell rings loudly to signal that it's time to begin inside. I wish I didn't have to stop, but Edward will be waiting. I switch directions and start back to the locker room.

"Hey, Bella!" I hear Jessica call out as she walks over to me.

"Hi, Jess. What's up?" I ask, trying to ward off the exhaustion that has suddenly hit me again.

"Mike and I are going to Port Angeles tonight. There's a new movie out." She starts talking excitedly about how hopeful she is of becoming his girlfriend soon.

At all the right points I smile and nod encouragingly. Suddenly I feel as if I'm about to faint. "Um, I need to sit down for a minute." I do what I always do in times like this- ease myself down to the ground, pull my knees to my chest and put my head between them.

"I'll help you to the nurse." Her voice sounds shrill and full of uncertainty.

Out of nowhere, I hear Alice chime in with, "She's coming over today and can be seen by my father, I'll take it from here." Great, a vision must have warned her this would happen.

After telling me to feel better, Jessica leaves.

My head is clearing, and I can safely look up. Beside me is Alice.

"Edward and Jasper are waiting for us in the Volvo."

I stand up gingerly, and she remains close by me. "My body must have gotten a little overheated," I tell her before she can form her own theories.

"All the same, you should talk to Carlisle and make sure something else isn't wrong," she responds.

Nothing good can come from this.

* * *

Emmet's car isn't in the driveway. Oh no, this probably means they don't want Rosalie to be present for whatever is about to take place. Esme and Carlisle meet us right at the door- another bad sign. My stomach is in knots despite the fact that I can feel Jasper trying to send waves of calm my way.

"Bella, would you join me in my office?" Carlisle asks me politely.

I'm not sure why we're going there when everyone will still be able to hear us, but this is all so embarrassing I say yes just to get it over with.

Once upstairs, Carlisle offers me a chair and then takes a seat behind his desk. It's going to be fine. He can't know anything for sure. I've prepared myself for something like this happening, and I have an excuse ready.

"We all care about you very much. You're a part of our family, and, as I'm sure Edward has told you, we have no secrets. I wonder, is there something that has been bothering you?"

I hadn't factored in Carlisle's calm, non-confrontational manner. Lying to him feels terribly wrong, but I have to keep my secret. "Thank you for your concern. I know I've lost weight and that I haven't quite been myself lately, but you know how I worry about my mom. It's just been hard adjusting to the fact that I'm not right there if she needs me." I hate that I had to bring my blob of a body to his attention, but with everyone at school suddenly feeling the need to tell me how I'm "so skinny" I know it had to be done in order to discourage any suspicion he may have of the truth.

"That's understandable. As much as she misses you, I don't doubt that Phil is taking excellent care of her. And you need to make sure to look after yourself. You're very important to a great many people…and vampires. Please know that you can always come to any one of us with your concerns."

I thank him and then excuse myself before he can further persist with this conversation.

As soon as I reach the bottom of the stairs, I'm met by Edward. Immediately he begins to speak, "Bella, you've seemed so tired lately. I don't want to be the cause of that. What can I do to help?" He shouldn't be feeling badly when he's been nothing short of a complete savior.

"Please don't blame yourself. Like I told Carlisle, I've been needlessly worrying about my mom is all. Can we watch a movie?" I'm hoping for the subject to drop.

Seeming not to have seen through my words, he asks me which film I would like for him to put on. I tell him I'm fine with anything, and after making a selection he promptly joins me on the couch. Before the title even flashes onto the screen I'm out.

I awake to the sound of screams. It takes me a few minutes to comprehend that they're coming from me. Edward's gentle voice manages to reach me through them.

"You're alright. It's only a bad dream." He has no idea.

Having what happened play on my mind constantly throughout the day is bad enough, but having to relive it in vivid nightmares is pure torture.

I'm sticky with perspiration and feeling nauseous. "What time is it?" I ask.

"It's seven o'clock," Edward responds. My heart continues to pound frantically; if only vampires didn't have such sensitive hearing. "Sometimes talking about it can help." He sounds so worried.

"It's all a blur now. I'll be fine." Tell him my past has come back to haunt me? No thank you. No way.

"Do you want me to take you home, love?"

_Definitely. _"Yes, that sounds good. I'll just say bye to everyone fast."

* * *

A shower is exactly what I need in order to regain some composure. Edward tells me he'll still be in my room when I'm done. I make my way to the bathroom and perch on the edge of the tub. While waiting for the water to become burning hot, I find myself holding an all too familiar tool. So much for leaving this messed up behavior behind in Phoenix. The irony of me being a cutter has never escaped my notice. While under normal circumstances the scent of blood would cause me to faint, inflicting it upon myself leaves me feeling sickly satisfied instead. I drag the razor blade along my hip_. _My fat, disgusting hip. I stare at what I've done for a moment. Did I actually carve the very thing I want to forget into my skin? I start laughing uncontrollably, before beginning to sob.

"Bella, are you alright?" Of course he can smell the blood and would have heard me having that breakdown- my desperation had taken me over in the moment.

"Everything is fine, I got nicked shaving is all." This is kind of true.

Edward exhales, and I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. "Make sure to breathe through your mouth, and try not to think about it."

He continues speaking, but I tune him out. I can't do this right now. The truth is that he deserves better than a damaged girlfriend.

I stand under the scalding spray of the showerhead and start scrubbing vigorously, trying to cleanse myself all the way to my soul. My blood mixes with the water and washes away down the drain… if only it were so easy to make everything disappear.

**I'm sorry this has taken me forever. I had to go away for a school thing, and when I got home we lost power for awhile (which is turning out to be tradition here). It's nice to be back.**

**Thank you all for your reviews; you're each so sweet. Thank you to the people who put my story on alert and favorited, that's really nice of you. And thank you anyone who's reading.**


	3. Shackled to the Past

Chapter 3: Shackled to the Past

None of the Cullens are in school today, for the sun is shining brightly, just as Alice said it would be. My face is warmed by its rays as they stream through the classroom window, and I'm brought back to the carefree times of my early childhood when such a day as this would have left me eager for recess to arrive. Now, I'm reminded of how empty and cold I feel on the inside.

"All students please report to the auditorium at eleven o'clock." The chipper voice of Ms. Cope brings me out of my reverie as it echoes through the intercom.

My fellow classmates begin excitedly discussing which classes they'll be missing. Personally, I'm just hoping it cuts into lunch. A repeat of how it went for me on the last sunny day would not be good. I never expected that my human friends would be the ones to be obsessively observant, pestering me with questions concerning my choosing all of the lowest calorie lunch selections and commenting upon how tiny my bites are. Need be, I'll hide out in the library this time.

* * *

Trigonometry is cut short by ten minutes to accommodate the assembly. Jessica and I make our way to the auditorium. Once there, we spot Angela waving us over to a couple of free seats by her.

"So, what do you think this is on?" I ask in an attempt to appear normal.

"We rarely ever have them, and I'm betting that this is the one we have every year on sexual assault," Jessica says, sounding bored.

"It probably is that one," Angela quietly agrees.

All I can think to say is, "Oh." I mean, what more is there? This topic is never going to be a pleasant one.

My mind may have blocked what happened for a long time, but I guess my subconscious never could forget, and, due to that, I have a running streak of horrible luck when it comes to this subject being addressed. The number of head injuries I've sustained from fainting over being reminded of a certain part of the body is embarrassing. In trying so hard to not think of those ridiculous episodes, I completely forgot about the possibility of being confronted with a triggering assembly while at Forks High School. At some point, I have to grow-up though. Now is as good a time as any. Eventually, self-prescribed 'exposure therapy' has to cure me.

"Hello, my name is Helen Parkers. Many people are unsure of how to define sexual assault, and I'm here today to help clear up that confusion." She continues on, giving examples as she goes.

Bile rises in my throat. I won't last much longer if I listen to the speaker, but maybe tuning her out would allow me to finally make it through an entire one of these talks.

Nope, apparently that's not enough. The damage has already been done. I have to leave. Thankfully, I'm in an aisle seat, allowing me to get up and flee without a word.

I head straight into the girls' bathroom and sink down against the door, not even caring about how dirty the floor is. My stomach is churning. There's no avoiding it, at any moment I'm going to be sick. Right now, I don't even have the energy to make my way to one of the stalls. Instead, I simply lean over the garbage can that is blessedly right next to me. At first, I can't seem to stop dry heaving. Soon, however, a familiar burning sensation hits my throat as I vomit up stomach acid.

Once I'm sure it's all out of my system, I stand up and walk over to the sink. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I'm overcome with absolute disgust. How weak can I get? What happened with _him_ wasn't even a big deal, and it's time for me to move on. I absolutely loathe myself for caring at all and for being unable to purge my mind of the memory.

Too late to give me a chance to pull myself together, I hear the door open.

Angela walks in. "Bella! I'm glad to have found you. What's wrong?"

"I think I'm coming down with something." _Just another lie…_

"Maybe it would be best for you to get some rest. I'm sure Mrs. Hammond would give you permission to go home," she says kindly.

At this point, I want nothing more than to get away from here. "You're right. That's exactly what I need."

* * *

The nurse doesn't need any convincing to let me leave; I probably still look pretty out of my mind. Losing it like this has to stop. I'm going to be exposed if I don't manage to get my act together. Appearing normal is essential- time to take my pretending to the next level. I know exactly what this will require.

Upon arriving home, I immediately make my way upstairs. Underneath the loose floorboard in my room is a supply of caffeine pills. When the nightmares first started, I bought them, just to have options. I haven't tried them yet, out of fear of becoming dependent upon them when I already have too many negative ways of coping. However, since Edward has been noticing how tired I am, that's now a chance I'll have to take. With one 100mg capsule in hand, I go into the bathroom to get some water and to take a shower while waiting for the pill to take effect.

Before departing my bedroom this morning, Edward asked that I go over to his place after school. It's absolutely imperative for me to truly act exactly like my old self there. The goal is to convince everyone that my behaving really strangely as of late was only a phase that I'm now past. Hopefully, the combination of making sure to have been seen sending extra e-mails to my mom recently and of playing my part convincingly today will allow for me to succeed. Pulling this off will be amazing. I'm actually becoming feverishly delirious at the thought.

* * *

I took care in selecting my outfit- a cream colored sweater, jeans, and ballet flats- and my hair is loose around my shoulders, instead of in the ponytail that had recently been becoming my staple. With a smile firmly plastered on my face, I go to reach for my door handle, but he's already there and opening it for me. "Edward!" I exclaim enthusiastically.

He chuckles softly and reaches for my hand to help me out. "How was school?"

Does he sound suspicious? How much do I tell him? "It was alright. I wasn't actually there for that long. We had an assembly today, and being crowded into the same room as the entire student body ended up making my upset stomach, which had only started to bother me on my drive to school, all the worse"

"That's a shame, love. Do you want to lie down?"

"I'm all better now and was actually really hoping we could go to meadow," I look up at him through my lashes, feeling like a complete fool. Please, don't let me be as transparent as I fear I am.

* * *

It was a good idea to suggest we come here. Edward seems content. I owe him that. It pains me that I've been causing him to worry.

"What are you thinking?" He moves to hold me as he asks this.

_How I'm wishing you couldn't feel my bulges of fat, and how you'd be too disgusted to look at me, let alone touch me, if you knew that I didn't even tell him no. _"Just about how amazing it feels to be here with you," I say aloud.

"You're incredible," he whispers in my ear.

Just then my stomach growls loudly. I suppress a groan.

His eyes gleam with amusement. We should head back. Shall I carry you?"

I look into his bliss-filled face and can't stand to disappoint him. Trying to sound nonchalant, I tell him yes and add, with a laugh, "It would be good if we could make it back in the same day we left."

* * *

In no time at all we reach the house. He sets me carefully on my feet but keeps an arm around me while I steady myself, and together we make our way inside.

Something's missing…Alice appearing out of nowhere and going ballistic with excitement. "Where's the little pixie?" I inquire.

"Hunting with Jasper. She's having a difficult time with her power and is hoping extra sustenance will help."

I choke a little. "Alice's visions are giving her problems? What's wrong?"

"Her view of upcoming events has been shifting so rapidly that she can barely keep up anymore, and that worries her." He glances sideways at me.

I understand what he's not saying- it's my future that's transforming too quickly- but I don't let on. "How upsetting for her. Maybe it will turn out that she does just need to satisfy her thirst."

Right then, Esme comes out of the kitchen. "Bella, dear, would you like something to eat?"

_Act as if nothing has changed. _"That'd be nice, thank you."

"What sounds good to you? I can put together a lasagna, make baked orzo and vegetables, or prepare anything else you'd like."

"I can take care of it."

"Nonsense, I love cooking for you."

I acquiesce and tell her I'd like the orzo and vegetables. With that settled, she makes her way back to kitchen, and we begin toward his room, running into Emmet and Rosalie on the second floor.

"What are you two up to?" Emmet asks as he gives me a hug.

Not sure myself, I say the first thing that comes to mind. "We're probably going to listen to some music."

He gives me a smile, but it's Rosalie who speaks. "That sounds nice. We'll let you get to that then."

At first, I think she's trying to banish me from her sight as quickly as possible, but then I realize she isn't aiming her usual sneer at me.

"Rose and I are going for a drive," Emmet says with a wink. "See you tomorrow, Bella." With that, they disappear.

Edward glances at me and grins, and the next thing I know he has me pinned on the sofa in his room. Unbidden, fear grips me. I trust him explicitly, but the feeling of being trapped…. My pulse thuds deafeningly, and, whether he realizes that it's due to panic or not, he's off of me in one swift movement. He picks up the stereo remote and presses play, then extends a hand to me.

I look at him in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"Requesting that you dance with me." He gives me an exaggerated bow.

As the soothing sound of Debussy's "Beau Soir" hums out of the speakers, I accept his invitation.

"This song, because you changed the night into something beautiful for me."

What did I do to deserve him? Hmm, that's right, nothing. He holds me gently, and I hold him tightly back, trying to ward off the memories that threaten to taint our relationship.

Just as I recognize the chords that signal the ending of this sweet melody, a gentle knock sounds at the door.

"Come in, Esme."

"Everything's ready, would you like to have it in the dining room?"

"That'd be great." I have to fight myself to keep from grimacing.

* * *

I think I'm about to have a nervous collapse as I approach the table. Could there be more food on that plate? Edward, always the perfect gentleman, pulls my chair out for me before taking a seat himself. As I pick up my fork, I look at him to remind myself of why this is necessary- he can't find out the truth.

On the days that I eat, my absolute limit is 300 calories and never in one sitting. This entire repast has to be about 400 calories. It's going to take away the pain in my stomach. That can't happen; the constant ache of denying myself is what gives me a small amount of relief. All of my progress will be ruined, making me even more of a failure than I already am. At this moment, I'm actually wishing I were at the supper table with Charlie, because then subtly hiding food wouldn't be an issue, but my watchful immortal misses nothing. _Breathe. _ I can do this for the man who somehow, miraculously loves me. And, with that, I separate one of the baby carrots from the mixture and quarter it. Carefully, I spear one of the pieces and put it into my mouth. After slowly and deliberately chewing, I manage to choke it down.

Keeping up this façade for tonight is crucial, but if the entire day tomorrow could be spent working-out then these calories and more could be burnt off. I'll need to be alone in order to do so though. As much as it pains me to be apart from him, it's simply preparation for the future- when he finally admits to himself that I'm no good. I can say I'm going to spend the day with Jacob and actually only stop by his house fast before going running in the woods on the Reservation.

It feels like hours pass before I make it through half of the heaping serving on my plate. Finally, I have to say that I'm done. "Next time I'll slow down on the water. I didn't notice how much of it I was drinking until it made me too full to finish Esme's delicious dinner," I remark. Hopefully that came out casually and not at all suspiciously. He looks satisfied though, so I assume that was believable. Good, that means I also must have spoken coherently to him throughout this meal despite my being thoroughly preoccupied the entire time.

_

* * *

_

I'm back home and in my bed with Edward. The caffeine is fading from my system, leaving me completely exhausted. It's been ages since I've stayed up late to talk though. I roll over to face him, "What's something I don't know about you?"

He looks contemplative and then sighs. "Hopefully you can handle this. There's never been a right time to tell you before."

_Gulp._ Is this going to be about Tanya and what his time in Alaska was really like? Maybe it would have been better to ask a more specific question, because I can't hear this right now.

"Well," he pauses, "I have a birthmark on the bottom of my left foot." A small smile plays around the corners of his mouth.

I roll my eyes and gently whack him on the arm. "Nice dramatics. I thought you were about to tell me something life-altering."

"I've already done that to you," he reminds me. "And I take your response to mean you love me despite my defect?" Now he's just teasing me.

"Always," I respond.

"What's something I don't know about you?"

Aside from the things he must never discover, what is there? "Nothing can beat your secret 'mark', but…don't be jealous, I have a crush on Coach Clapp."

"Truthfully, I always suspected as much and have an elaborate plan in mind for winning you back if you decide to choose him over me." He begins outlining his scheme aloud.

His melodic voice is lulling me to sleep. He's doing this on purpose. It's becoming a struggle to keep my eyes open; I'm not going to last much longer.

_

* * *

_

After awaking from my night of agitated sleep, I keep perfectly still with my eyes shut tight, reminding myself to stay in the present. Cool fingers begin tracing patterns on my back, and I know he realizes I'm up. I will myself to rise and usher in another day.

"Bella, we need to talk."

Oh, no!

**Long Author's Note: Thank you again for the reviews. They mean a lot to me, and you're all so supportive, which I appreciate. Thank you for the alerts and favorites. I'm grateful to each of you for having taken the time to do so; it's really nice of you all to be following the story. I love reading what all of you have written, and if anyone has any specific recommendations of their own work they want read I'd love to hear them.**

**And I'm so sorry that it turns out I'm actually just slow. Writing goes quickly, but the editing takes me awhile (because I always debate over what to change and what to leave); I promise it's because I care though. I feel really badly. I hope no one minds.**

**I'm also experiencing a lot of anxiety/guilt at certain points as I write and over slacking on this local charity I started, and I'm afraid that these things are holding me up some. I do absolutely love working on this story and am continuing with it. I'm sure no one's waiting, but I just feel really guilty to be repeatedly so delayed (and for that continuing). Basically, I'm asking if everyone can forgive me?**


	4. Found Out

Chapter 4: Found Out

Did I say something in my sleep? Did I give away my own secret? Maybe I'm overreacting and he's concerned about something else. Yes, that's definitely it . . . it has to be. "Good morning, Edward. I'm going to get ready." Why does my voice sound so shaky?

"Bella, talk to me first, please," he pleads.

I hate how I've caused him to suffer so much. I'll talk to him now and lie, thereby easing his mind as long as he doesn't see through my words. "Um, what's on your mind?" That was casual, right?

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me?" Edward asks as he stares intently at me.

_Yes, I want to tell you everything._ "Just that I love you."

"I love you, too. However, that's not what I mean." He sighs. "I had hoped you'd want to tell me what's going on yourself, but I understand why you can't. Having an eating disorder I'm sure isn't easy and I bet neither is dealing with the issue you're attempting to use it to help you cope with. Let me assist you. You deserve so much better than this and I want you to be able to see that as well."

"Eating disorder?" I croak. "You think I have a _problem_ with food?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone handles what life throws at them in their own way."

"You don't know what you're talking about." _Except that you met me before I completely lost mind, have two graduate degrees in medicine, a sister who sees the future, a father experienced in these matters, and who knows what else. _

"Love, I don't want you to be upset. I want to be here for you through this. How about you have a human moment and then we can talk some more?"

He's going to try to take this away from me. What right does he have to do that? Not eating has done so much for me. It's like having a friend who knows exactly what I need even when I have no idea what that is. No one else is willing to see the truth about me, that I'm wretched, so wretched. It gives me the punishment I deserve. I won't lose this. _ Great_, my eyes are starting to well up; I try to hide this by looking toward the ceiling. This is already beyond embarrassing, not to mention that tears seem a bit too incriminating.

"Bella? It's okay. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but everything will work out. Life will be better once you accept some help for your Anorexia." His voice sounds soothing, but his proposal isn't in the least bit.

Why am I so messed up? I can't do this anymore. I can't keep on pretending that I'm worthy of anyone, let alone of Edward. What it comes down to is that I hate myself. The tears spill over as the truth of this strikes me. He gently puts an arm around my shoulder, but I shake him off. "No, please, just don't touch me." I avoid his gaze. Seeing the expression on his face would be too much to bear.

I'm so angry with myself. This was only supposed to affect me. I never wanted it to impact him or anyone else. "Look at me. Really look at me. I'm worthless—"

He interrupts me. "I see you, not only as you look on the outside but also for who you are on the inside, and you're incredible. You just don't see yourself clearly."

"No, you don't see me clearly. I know who I am and what I've done; I know the truth," I wail.

"I love you no matter what," he says firmly.

At this, I get up off of my bed and move away from it so as to put a couple of feet between Edward and myself. "You know what? I don't care. I hate you. I hate you so much that I can't even express in words how much I hate you!" _I love him. I detest myself._ Why am I screaming at him? "You don't love me. You can't love me. Do you even know who I am? Because I don't, but I do know that there's no part of me that's good, and you . . . _you_ just make it all worse," I screech. Why can't I seem to stop?

"Bella, it's all going to be okay." He comes over to me and embraces me in a hug. For a moment, I sob into his shoulder. I want what he says to be true, but it's not and it never will be. I push him away.

"Leave. I don't want you here. We're over," I say in a monotone. I hear these words come out of my mouth and despise myself for them, but still I don't stop.

"I'm sorry for anything I've done to hurt you, but talk to me, please. I know we can work this out. Is there perhaps something more going on? You can tell me. I'll never think ill of you." Edward, incredible boyfriend that he is, says all of this so sweetly. I'm more sure than ever that I'm too tainted for him.

"There's nothing to work out. You haven't done anything wrong." He needs to know that it's not him, despite what I shrieked at him. "And, no, nothing else is going on. You just need to leave." At last, I've stopped weeping. I feel nothing at this point.

Edward begins to speak, "Bella—," but this time it's I who cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it." Why am I crying again? "Go. Get away from me."

"Anything you want. You're in control," he says quietly, and then, a bit louder, adds, "I'll always be here for you."

I say nothing. I'm in front of the window, so I know he'll opt for the door. I turn away from him. I can't stand to watch him leave.

For I don't know how long, I remain in that position. Then, I flop down on my bed. Sobs wrack my body. I'm such an emotional wreck; it's pathetic. And what have I done? I hurt the love of my life. Never will I be able to

forget the look of pain in his eyes as he stood before me and I said those terrible things to him. I'm a despicable human being.

* * *

"_Ouch._ _Stop poking me, please. It hurts," I say._

"_No, it doesn't. You're being a baby," he responds and shoves my arm._

"_Why did you do that?" I ask. "Now the puppy has a line over his face. I wanted to give this to Gran."_

"_You're so stupid, no one colors anymore," he taunts._

I'm pulled back to consciousness by the ringing of the telephone. Thank goodness, too, because I hate this dream, especially since it progresses into a nightmare. _Ouch._ Something really is jabbing my side. I sit up and reach for it. It's an envelope with my name written on the front in Edward's flawless cursive. I open it.

_ Dear Bella,_

_ I don't have to know everything about you to know how wonderful you are._

There's more, but I'm not reading it. How can he be nice to me after the evil way I treated him? All of this just proves that I never was good enough for him and that I never will be. I crumple up his letter, intending to throw it away, but, unable to do that, I tuck it away in the drawer of my nightstand. It's time to get ready so as to try to salvage something of this day. I stand and, after gathering what I need for the washroom, head out of my bedroom.

My heart beats wildly as I step on the scale. After a few deep breaths, I move my toes aside to look at the number. _No._ This should be lower. _Ugh,_ _wretched, wretched, wretched me._ Without even thinking about it, I start hitting myself on the hip. If I hadn't been such a wimp and had just run for twenty more minutes maybe I would have lost more weight. Big deal that I felt like fainting; it's mind over matter, right? I get off of the contraption that I simultaneously hate and can't live without. I have to come up with a plan for the day. I'll do that while I shower, because I'm wasting precious time here . . . exercise time.

I turn on the water and test its temperature with my toe. I don't want to have to spend time adjusting it once I'm out of my pajamas.

Once it's to the warmth I like, I take off my sweats and my tee shirt and put them into the clothes hamper. Then, I get into the shower and close my eyes.

I want to tell Edward the truth, but I'm scared and so very ashamed. What if he thinks I'm disgusting? What if he tells me children do stuff like that? What on earth do I even call what happened? It has no name, so how could I ever tell him? What if he blames me? How could he not? He's going to be repulsed. I'm repulsed.

It was a normal morning in my six year old life. Then, the hospital called. Mom said my grandmother needed her. "Me too?" I asked. However, Mom told me that she was taking me to her friend's house and that Gran would love it if I drew her a picture while I was there. I didn't like going to Mom's friend's house, because her kids scared me. _How weak, I still can't handle even thinking the name of anyone in that family._ I begged to be taken to see Gran, but, instead, there I found myself at _that_ house. Everything was fine at first, but then came bedtime.

I can't think about this. I'm supposed to be figuring out what I'm doing today. Let me see, once I'm done here and have gotten ready, I'll go to the store. After that, I'll come home and do this weekend's homework. Then, I'll exercise. Okay, that wasn't difficult and definitely wasn't enough to distract me. I want to hurt myself in an attempt to escape my own head and all of the questions that circle around inside of it. My razor is right here . . . . It's not my favorite thing to use, but I could . . . . No, I need to get out of here. Mainly out of this shower and into some clothes, but also out of this house.

* * *

"Hi." Such a simple word and yet it sounds barely audible coming from me in this moment.

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry for how awful this chapter is! Normally I write a chapter and then spend days thinking it over and using a ton of different sources to double-check my grammar (and still being really bad at grammar), but I'll never post this if I spend time thinking about it. So, I wrote it and edited it tonight. I hope no one hates it. And please don't judge me based on how horribly I worded everything in this chapter. I'm also INCREDIBLY sorry it took me such a long time to post a chapter four. If anyone is still reading this story, I appreciate it (and if not, I really appreciate the fact that you read it before and all of your very nice and sweet reviews)! If anyone new finds this story, thank you as well for reading it! :D **


	5. Coming Together and Falling Apart

Chapter 5: Coming Together and Falling Apart

"Hi." Such a simple word and yet it sounds barely audible coming from me in this moment. I had been just standing here in line waiting to pay for fueling my car and praying not to see anyone I know when Mike and Tyler came inside. They grinned and came right over to me, so I knew there would be no avoiding having to speak.

"What are you doing today?" Mike asks me.

"Not much. I'm going to the supermarket and then doing homework. What about you guys?" I try to smile.

"Exciting," they say laughingly.

"We're going to Port Angeles to catch a movie. You want to come?" Tyler asks.

"Yeah, you should come, Bella." Mike adds.

I feel badly that people still even try to invite me anywhere. I never do anything. I barely even talk to anyone anymore, well, besides the Cullens. Oh, I guess not even them after what I did this morning. This train of thought needs to stop. Okay, back to Mike and Tyler. "Thanks, but I really have to get some stuff done in town and at home. Have fun."

"If you're sure," Mike says.

"Next, please," calls the cashier.

At last, I can pay and leave. I was getting worried that I'd be stuck in this line for ages. I step forward. "Pump three," I tell her and hand over my twenty-dollar bill. "Have a nice day," I say to her before turning back to Mike and Tyler.

"Thanks for the offer. I'm positive though, but, hey, you can give me a review on Monday," I tell them.

"Okay, we will," they reply almost in unison.

"Bye, Mike. Bye, Tyler."

* * *

I've been sitting for five minutes in the parking lot of Meijer, the local grocery store. Soon, I'm going to have to go in. To be perfectly honest, I can barely stand being in there for very long anymore. I used to love planning recipes while walking the aisles, but now I'd rather never set foot in a store with such a large supply of food again. There's something very uncomfortable about being repulsed by the food there in the present and knowing that I didn't always feel this way. It makes me worry that there's still a part of me that _likes_ food. I'm afraid as well, because what if one day I lose it and I buy that yogurt I used to enjoy and I have it and I can't stop? Then, I'd have to start all over with making my stomach feel as empty as it does and hurt as badly as it does. Though, come to think of it, it doesn't really bother me anymore. It kind of feels good, the way drinking plain tea did when I first stopped eating—one cup a day. Still, it's a scary thought to think of being that out of control. I'm definitely skipping the dairy aisle.

* * *

After escaping from the grocery store, the weekend seems to fly by. This is most likely due to the apprehension I feel over seeing Edward and his siblings at school. I cook, I clean, I do homework, I exercise, and I convince Charlie that everything is great, but the entire time I'm horribly anxious just thinking of Monday.

* * *

In no time at all, the dreaded day is here. I don't feel very well. What happens when I see Edward? _Breathe, Bella, breathe._ Wow, I talk to myself all the time now. This is sad. Oh well, I have more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. I'm mortified that I treated Edward the way that I did. An apology definitely isn't enough. Also, if I speak with him, he'll think he can try to_ fix _me. I miss him, but I can't let him ruin all of my hard work.

As I pull into a parking space, I step too hard on the brake, causing my truck to lurch. I think I'm going to be sick. It'll pass. All I need is to sit here for a few minutes and close my eyes.

Not even a moment later, however, the first bell rings, signaling that it's time to head inside. I better get going. I open my door and slowly step out. Suddenly, all I can see is black and I feel myself falling. At any moment, I'm going to make contact with the hard pavement of the parking lot, but, instead, I feel someone with very cold arms catch me and then . . . nothing.

* * *

"Bella?"

Ugh, Edward. I hurt him and he's yet again the one to save me. Why am I always a complete mess in front of him? Slowly, I open my eyes. He's standing before me and we're still in the school parking lot, but I'm back in my seat, thanks to him.

"You fainted and were unconscious for about a minute. You need to be looked at. Do you want to go to Carlisle, he's at home right now, or to another doctor at the hospital?"

"I'm fine. I want to go to class." I begin to inch off of my seat and toward the door, despite the fact that he's in my way. Maybe I should stay still actually, because my vision just went a little blurry again.

"You really need to see a doctor." He pauses before continuing. "It's not a big deal. People pass out all the time and have to see their doctor," he says gently. "Okay?"

I don't feel up to arguing about this. "I'll see Carlisle."

"How about I drive you? We can take your truck."

"Sure," I say and slowly slide across to the passenger seat to allow him to take my place at the wheel.

We ride in silence.

* * *

Together, Edward and I walk into the house. Carlisle and Esme are sitting next to one another on the couch, but they stand to come over and greet us.

"Hello, Bella and Edward," says Carlisle. "Come in and sit down."

"What are you two doing here?" Esme inquires, sounding concerned.

I blush. Edward glances at me and, thankfully, saves me from having to answer. "Bella fainted this morning. I thought she should be examined to see that she's okay."

"Did you hit your head, Bella?" Carlisle asks.

"No, uh, Edward caught me."

"That's good," he says soothingly. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with you in my office and have you answer some questions for me. Is that alright?" Carlisle is continuing to use his calm physician's voice on me. This is definitely not good. Not good at all.

What can I really say besides sure though? Nothing, it's the only choice, because if we don't do this now he'll want to do it another time and then I'll have it hanging over my head. "Sure," I say as I inhale deeply.

"Thank you. For each question, I'd like for you to tell me how often over the past twenty-eight days you've felt or done as I describe."

"Okay," I reply.

"How many days have you been deliberately trying to limit the amount of food you eat to influence your weight?"

_Every day._ Is it safe to say none, or, since he clearly suspects I have a problem, will I be better-off saying a still false but slightly higher number than zero? The latter, I suppose. "Seven days, so, erm, one week."

"Have you gone for eight or more hours without eating anything at all in order to influence your weight?" Carlisle asks while continuing to look at me closely.

"I tried it a couple times, but I gave in and had something to eat on both occasions." The lying is going fine, I think. No, who am I kidding? He so knows, but, maybe, just maybe, there's still hope.

After what feels like a hundred questions later, I'm ready to bury my face in my hands and never show it again, due to all of the shame I feel.

"Bella—" Carlisle begins.

There's more. How can there be? "Yes?" I just need to stay strong and soon this interrogation will be over.

"Do you know what you weigh at present? An estimate is fine."

I weigh far too much. Far, far too much. A nervous laugh escapes my lips. "One-hundred pounds." I want to vomit just saying that number. Never will I return to that weight.

Carlisle looks at me for a moment but continues, "How tall are you?"

"I'm five-feet, four-inches."

"Bella, even if you truly did weigh one-hundred pounds, that's far too light for someone of your height. I'm sorry, but despite how you've answered my questions, I know that you haven't been eating properly and that you're malnourished. We all care about you very much and only want what's best for you, which is why it's important we bring the truth out into the open," Carlisle says kindly.

I want to cry or to scream and to just deny everything, but he knows. They all know.

"Charlie doesn't need to find out, right? I ask worriedly. I don't know why, but there's something so shameful about letting my parents, since Charlie will tell Renee, down in this way. They'll think I'm pathetic for doing this. Plus, Charlie will watch me very closely at home now, which is going to make it trickier to deceive him—I'll manage to do so though. Renee will tell me I'm beautiful and that I don't need to do this, completely missing that I'm not doing this to be attractive.

"He does. Charlie loves you. He'll want to help you get better. Would you like me to tell him or would you rather do that and then I'll speak with him?"

I take a shaky breath. "I'll tell him." This way I can make it sound like nothing at all so that he at least has it in mind that it's no big deal before he hears what Carlisle has to say.

"It_ will_ be okay, Bella. We're all behind you one-hundred percent," Carlisle says. "You talk to Charlie tonight and I'll give him a call in the morning to arrange a time when we can all get together and discuss treatment options."

"What sort of treatment do you think I need?"

"I believe that, as long as you're willing to get better, you can enter an outpatient treatment program." His eyes are burning into mine as he tries to ascertain whether or not he's right to have faith in me. I swallow hard. I can't be trusted, but I have to make him think I can be. That way I can figure out how to continue on as I am with no one being any the wiser. It'll be tricky seeing as the Cullens have such keen senses, but I won't give this up.

* * *

"Um, Edward?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"Do you—" my voice cracks, so I start again, "Do you think I'm crazy?" I look away from him and out the window. I feel his gaze on me though.

"No, not at all. I think you're being too hard on yourself. When you first turned to your eating disorder, it probably seemed like the only way, and there's no shame in that. Hurting yourself isn't the answer though. I want you to know, it's okay to having feelings and to not know what to do. It's also okay to cry and to yell and to say that things aren't going too well. You don't owe it to anyone to say that everything is great when that isn't the truth. No one should expect that from you either. Do you know that I love you not because when I first was getting to know you you seemed to have it all together, but because I knew there was more to you than that? You'll always be perfect to me, and, anyway, I believe that perfection means needing others and not always having the answers. You saved me from my misery and loneliness, let me help you now." He says all of this so compassionately and I know that, while it will never be enough, I need to try to apologize to him for how horribly I treated him two days ago and to at least try to make him understand that I never wanted to hurt him.

I peek over at him. "I'm sorry I said such awful things to you on Saturday. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them. I wish I could take it all back. I was upset that you said I have an issue with food and also that you waste your time with me. You're so good and so kind. I don't want to drag you down," I say biting my lip.

"I'm not upset with you for what happened, Bella. It makes us all the closer, right?" He raises an eyebrow and smiles. "Truly, it's fine. Also, you don't drag me down. Please don't ever think that. I want you to concentrate on feeling better, not on making yourself feel guilty."

I nod my head, unsure of what to say.

"I'll drive you home," he tells me.

"All right," I reply. "Or, we could do something. I mean, if you want. We don't have to if you'd rather not." Wow, I sound awkward.

"That'd be nice, Bella. What would you like to do?"

"Anything is fine."

"You should choose." Coming from someone else I'd think that was a jab at my indecisiveness, but from Edward it's sincere.

I don't want to have to explain to anyone why I left school this morning, so I definitely don't want to go back there. Watching a DVD might lead to Edward trying to hold me, so that's out. What do I want to do? Sleep, quite honestly. That's not really an option though. _Hmm._ "We could go to Ruby Beach."

"That sounds good," he responds.

* * *

It's freezing here, even with wearing two coats, Edward having generously given me his, but the tide pools are fascinating and I feel a bit calmer standing next to the one we've paused to watch. After a few minutes, we continue walking along until we come to one of the drier rocky spots and sit down. He's really close to me and I'm worried he'll place an arm around me, so I shift slightly to put a small amount of space between us, hoping he won't notice.

"I know as of Saturday you broke up with me," he says.

Shoot, where is this going? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." Well, I didn't mean it the way a person might normally. I don't want to date anyone else and I don't want to see Edward less. It would just be easier to not feel as if I'm letting him down as a girlfriend on top of my already failing him by not even being capable of acting like a normal human being.

"If you did, it's fine. You know that, right? I've been thinking myself, and we don't have to be boyfriend and girlfriend. We're friends as well, so we could be just friends. Would you like that?"

_YES._ I would be so thankful for that. I love Edward but to not have to worry about him touching me would be a bit of a comfort. A big part of me wants him to hold me, but with what happened playing over and over on my mind, I don't want to associate it with him. I also don't feel at all up to even thinking about what expectations _can_ come with being a girlfriend, whether it's kissing or something more-not that Edward would ever be anything other than understanding . . . clearly. It's not fair to him though. I glance shyly at him, "I would like that. Thanks." I'm so relieved. "Do you mind?" I don't want him to be hurt.

"No, definitely not. I would love to be your friend," he answers sincerely.

I haven't genuinely smiled in such a long time, but, right now, at Edward, I do.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you again for the reviews and to everyone who's reading!**


	6. Chances to Take, Choices to Make

Disclaimer: I don't own "Twilight".

Chapter 6: Chances to Take, Choices to Make

I'm sitting here trying to fold up into myself, but it doesn't seem to be working. If anything, I swear that I'm expanding and becoming more visible. This is utterly and completely humiliating . . . and sad. Is it messed up to envy the girls and guys here who look completely skeletal? Because I do. Wow, forget questioning that thought, it _is_ messed up; who knows what caused them to turn to their eating disorders, and here I am envying them—sick, sick, sick. Somehow, acknowledging how wrong of me that is doesn't change the fact that I desperately want my bones to poke out in the same way as theirs do.

Now that I'm here, I find myself wondering if these group therapy sessions that Carlisle got me into at the hospital are truly meant to help or if they, in reality, exist due to some sort of twisted desire on the part of the psychiatrist leading us in them to trigger all of us. _Ugh_, just thinking Carlisle's name reminds me of that mortifying talk that Carlisle, Esme, Edward, Charlie, and I had the other day. Well, they all talked, and I sat there still reeling from the fact that I'd had to fill Charlie in on what I'd been doing. That was not a—

My trail of thought is cut off by the loud wails of the girl next to me. I cringe inwardly, feeling guilty. I should have been listening.

"Anna, that was very brave of you to share your story. Crying is a healthy way of showing emotion. It's okay," says Dr. Bancston calmly (oops, I need to remember, for when I have to address her directly, we're supposed to call her Dr. Jen, apparently doing so will help us to feel as if no barrier exists between her and us . . . ).

I wish I could think of something nice to say to Anna—a petite girl, with blonde hair cut into a bob. _Yeah, that was brave. Are you alright? I hope someday I figure out how to share some of the things going on inside of my head, too._ No, all of that sounds so lame, and to say any of it to her would undoubtedly make it sound a thousand times more pathetic and awkward. I glance sideways at her, biting my lip, praying for inspiration to strike and for me to, somehow, come up with something comforting to say to her. However, I've got absolutely nothing.

"Isabella?"

Wow, I need to stop blanking out. "Ye—yes?" I ask Dr. Jen.

"We're going over to the mats," she smiles at me as she says this. "We finish every session with some relaxing yoga."

I look around and feel myself blush. No one else is left in the circle. Quickly I make my way over to the rest of the group.

"I'm Alex, and I'll be leading yoga today." _Oh no, does this mean that we all take turns "teaching" the group?_ "Let's start with the table pose."

* * *

Finally, my first group therapy session is over! I try to remain calm and not run toward the door.

"Isabella, could you wait a moment?"

What could Dr. Jen want? "Sure," I respond, making my best attempt at a genuine smile.

"Thank you. I want to fill you in on one of the activities that everyone is doing. Each person is working on writing his or her own autobiography, and I'd like for you to do the same. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me, but your interpretation of and approach to this task will be as unique as you are, so there is no wrong way to go about doing it. What do you think?"

"Should be fun," I tell her. Though, honestly, my heart started beating rapidly just at the mention of having to write my own autobiography. This sounds to me like it will accomplish precisely the opposite of what I'm trying to achieve. I want to forget, _not_ to explore my memories and experiences more deeply. "Um, bye."

"Goodbye, Isabella. I'll see you on Friday."

* * *

"Bells! Hi!" Charlie calls out to me over-enthusiastically as I step through the hospital doors.

"Hey, Dad," I mumble.

"How did everything go?" He asks with forced cheerfulness.

I'm a terrible person. All of the people I care about are hurting because of me. "Good. Thanks." I should say more, I know I should, but I can't think of anything. So, surprise, surprise, I opt for looking out of the window.

* * *

"Sweetheart, we're home."

"Huh?" I ask groggily.

"We're in the driveway. How about you go upstairs and rest," Charlie suggests.

I feel discombobulated and can't seem to get my bearings. "I'm going to sit here for a minute. You can go inside."

The sound of his car door opening alerts me to the fact that he listened to me and is, thankfully, going to let me take this at my own pace.

Nope, I was wrong. I hear the door on my side creak open and feel a chilly breeze rush in. "Come on, Bells." He unclicks my buckle and takes my arm. "Your bed will be more comfortable."

"Alright," I whisper. The amount of effort it takes for me to open my eyes makes me feel as if my eyelids weigh a thousand pounds apiece, but, after a minute, I get them to stay open. Next, I begin the slow process of getting my body out of Charlie's police cruiser.

* * *

_Where am I? What's going on? Why can't I move? _Oh, phew, I was still in a semi-dream state is all. Thank goodness that that's it. For one horrible moment I thought _it_ was happening again. Trying to forget the dream—well, more like the nightmare—, I curl up, making myself as small as possible, and wrap my blankets tightly around me.

"Love," Edward murmurs soothingly as he sits on the edge of my bed, "do you want to talk?"

_Kind of_. Instead, however, I shake my head 'no,' knowing that he'll be able to see me do so.

"I'll just sit with you then," he whispers as he brushes a strand of hair out of my face.

Right before sleep takes me again, I find myself thinking that maybe (and, despite how incredible Edward is, that's a big maybe) there's a chance that Edward _would_ understand what happened.

* * *

**Author's Note: This is a very delayed update. I'm incredibly sorry for that. I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited. I appreciate it so much. You're all very sweet!**

**This chapter isn't very exciting, I'm afraid, but I wanted to write a chapter between the last one and the next one to just kind of introduce Bella's first experience in group therapy. I hope no one minds.**

**Thank you to everyone who's reading! : D**


	7. A Day Off Before Tomorrow Comes

Disclaimer: I don't own "Twilight".

Chapter 7: A Day Off Before Tomorrow Comes

The entire school day passes in a complete blur, and before I can even fully register the fact that the final bell is sounding, I become aware of Alice tapping me insistently on the shoulder.

"Ouch," I say under my breath.

"Oh, Bella, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do that so forcefully," Alice exclaims. _Oops_, I forgot to account for her superb vampire hearing. I've got to keep that in mind. Besides, maybe doing so will help prevent me from becoming one of those people who's constantly muttering to herself, because every time I'm alone, I catch myself doing exactly that, and it makes me feel as if I'm that much closer to losing whatever is left of my sanity.

"Don't worry about it. It didn't even hurt actually," I lie. "I was just caught off guard is all."

She gives me a look that I can't quite decipher, but, a moment later, her eyes take on a mischievous look. "You and Edward have been spending a ton of time together," Alice states with a pout, though her eyes are twinkling. "I miss you. Can we have a girls' day today?"

I'm so exhausted all the time that the mere thought of that seems like too much, but Alice has always been such a wonderful and caring friend that I can't stand the idea of disappointing her by turning down her thoughtful idea. Plus, I have to make everyone think that I'm improving—well, improving according to their idea of the word. "That sounds really nice!" I hope I managed to make my voice sound full of energy as I said that.

"Fantastic!" Alice replies and gives a small, excited bounce. "You rode to school with Edward, right?"

"Yeah, I did," I reply.

"Perfect, then he can drive us to your house, as long as it's alright with you that we hang out there?" She looks at me questioningly.

"That's fine, Alice." Did my voice sound as flat to her as it did to me? I hope not, but I really need to start putting more thought into that sort of thing _before_ I speak, not after.

"Do you mind if Rosalie comes, too?"

"Um, no?"

Alice gives a small laugh. "Was that an answer or a question, Bella?"

"It was supposed to be an answer. So, sure, that's fine if she comes." I'm feeling a bit nervous, but I manage to give her a small smile.

"Wonderful! Everyone is outside by the cars. Let's go tell them the plan."

* * *

As we make our way through the parking lot, the rest of the Cullens come into view. Right away I notice the tense expression on Edward's face, though once I catch his eye, he gives me that crooked grin of his that I love so much and makes his way over to Alice and me.

"Hey Edward. Will you drive Bella, Rosalie, and me to Bella's house, please? Emmett brought us all in his Jeep, and I don't think he's about to lend it to me after what happened last time . . . "

"I heard that, Alice!" Emmet calls out loudly. "And you're right, I'm never letting you drive this Jeep after what you did to my previous one."

"Oh, we'll see," Alice calls back teasingly.

"Anyway," Edward says with a slight roll of his eyes, "of course I'll drive you girls."

"Thank you," responds Alice.

As the three of us resume walking toward the others, Edward starts to put an arm around my shoulders but abruptly lowers it, giving me a sheepish look. I know he's thinking about our decision to be just friends, and a sense of overwhelming guilt washes over me. _Fantastic_, I'm managing to hurt Edward just by existing. Not even Jasper's sending waves of calm my way can assuage the horrible amount of shame that I feel.

* * *

"Have a . . . good time, girls," says Emmett to us a bit awkwardly, as Jasper gives a slight nod of his head.

Edward opens the passenger-side door for me to get into the car, while Alice and Rosalie slide gracefully into the back. "Thanks," I murmur, looking down.

"Let's have some music," declares Alice as she hands a CD to Edward. The first song to blare out of the speakers isn't one I've ever heard, but Alice, who is singing along loudly, clearly knows it well. I feel the corners of my mouth lift into a small smile.

* * *

"I'll see you later tonight," Edward says to me after I've freed myself from my seatbelt.

I manage to get out an "Alright," before Alice whisks me away toward the house.

* * *

"We're going to have an awesome time! Can we go to your room?"

Rosalie gives a little laugh, "Calm down, Alice."

"Yeah, we can," I tell her.

* * *

Once in my bedroom, Alice looks at me seriously, and Rosalie seems to be inspecting her nails. I begin to feel very nervous. They're not here to talk to me about my . . . what is it even? Um, I'll just call it a food concern, yes, a food concern is all it is. Please, please, please don't let them be here to discuss it. It's mine, it's private, and, well, it's shameful.

"Aqua or rose pink?" questions Alice.

I'm caught off guard, "What?"

"For your nails," she says as if it should have been obvious. Maybe it was, just not to me.

"Aqua, I guess."

Rosalie looks up from her nails, "Good choice. I can paint them for you."

"Oh, um, okay," I sputter nervously. _Way to sound like a wimp, Bella._ Ugh, more like way to talk to myself in third-person.

* * *

It doesn't seem like they're going to bring up any of the topics that I'm desperately hoping to avoid, and, after a bit, I begin to relax.

"Your nails are done," Rosalie tells me.

Before I can say anything, Alice jumps up off of my bed, surprising me. "We should watch a move downstairs! Charlie is going to have to stay a bit late at work—you'll get a call from him soon—so, we won't be interrupting him to do so."

"Great idea!" Hey, I think that actually came out sounding pretty upbeat. In fact, in this moment, I think I might really be happy.

* * *

As the three of us are making our way down the stairs, I hear the telephone start to ring . . . _of course_. I quicken my pace to get to the phone before the answering machine picks up. "Hello?" I say into the receiver.

"Bella. It's Dad. How are you doing?" His voice sounds full of concern, as if he thinks I'm going to drop dead at any moment. Poor Charlie. I've hurt him just as I've hurt everyone else in my life.

"I'm good, Dad. Alice and Rosalie are over. I hope you don't mind."

"That's fine, kiddo!" he responds, sounding rather enthused. "Actually, I'm really glad. It's nice for you to have friends come to the house. Also, I'm afraid I have to stay late at work tonight, so I'm glad you have some company."

"Is everything alright there?" I ask.

"Yes, everything's fine. I just have to write-up a report on someone who's going to appear in town court tomorrow on drug charges, and that's going to take me some time to do."

"Oh, okay."

"I should be home around eight o'clock. Call me if you need anything. You girls have fun."

"Thanks, Dad." What else should I say? Do I go into some sort of detail about what we're up to? Do I tell him that I hope the write-up isn't as time-consuming as he plans on it being? Ever since I had to tell my dad about my food . . . concern, I have basically no idea what to say to him. I'm caught between wanting to avoid eye contact with him completely and trying not to hurt him any more than I already have. "Uh, bye."

"Bye. I'll see you at home later," he replies.

I hang up the phone but don't remove my hand from it for a moment, as I'm so lost in thought.

"Did I call that? I so called that!" exclaims Alice jokingly.

Pulled from my reverie, I laughingly say, "Yes, Alice, you did _so_ call that."

"Now, what movie are we watching?" asks Rosalie.

Alice gleefully responds, acting as if this is _the _question that she has been waiting to hear all day. "Well, I brought a few DVDs—_A Room with a View_, _Ever After_, and _The Philadelphia Story_—but maybe Bella wants to see _Wuthering Heights_ or another DVD that she has here. So, what will it be, Bella?"

"I guess I'll be daring and say let's watch the one I've never seen—_The Philadelphia Story_."

"Excellent choice," Alice calls over her shoulder as she does a pirouette on her way over to the DVD player.

* * *

I smile at Alice and Rosalie as they turn to face me after stepping out the door. "It was really fun hanging out today."

"Aw! I had fun, too," says Alice as she leans in to give me a hug.

"Yeah," agrees Rosalie with a smile.

"We'll see you tomorrow," Alice tells me.

"Bye," I reply, and then they're gone.

* * *

There's still a bit of time before Edward will arrive, so I write a quick note to Charlie to tell him that I hope work went well and to let him know that I decided to go to bed early but that there is leftover lasagna from last night in the fridge. After placing the note on the kitchen table where he'll see it, I head upstairs.

* * *

As I sit on my bed contemplating the past, my thoughts begin to race, causing me to feel overwhelmed by them. That's when I remember that I've heard that writing in a journal can help people to feel calmer. I've never actually put that to the test, but now seems like as good a time as any to do so. Renée gave me a journal before I came to Forks, and I know I brought it with me. Slowly, carefully, I get up off of my bed so as to not cause myself to become dizzy and fall, and I ponder for a moment where I might I have put it, before I remember that I placed it in my desk drawer.

* * *

Back on my bed, with journal and pen in hand, I find myself staring at the journal. It's a very pale shade of pink—not me at all. Nor, it seems, is it exactly fitting for this task. I feel like I'm supposed to be writing about my first kiss and dates and school dances in it. Oh well . . .

_Dear Younger Bella,_

_I feel really silly writing this letter to you (to me?), but apparently writing to one's childhood self is supposed to be therapeutic, so I'll give it a try._

_When you're six-years-old, your life changes. You'll think that what happens in that room will end there and that you'll forget what happens, but you're wrong on both counts. I want to tell you that it's not your fault, but I can't do that. Instead, I need to tell you that I hate you. It seems mean to hate any child, but I hate you (you're me after all). You should have said no or screamed or at least have done something._

Maybe I should go on, but I'm scared to do so, because putting down in writing what happened feels like too much. I know that I'm overreacting to the incident and that I need to just get over it, but, even though I couldn't consciously admit it at the time (or even bear to think about what had happened), something within me was forever altered that day.

Well, I better put this journal away and get ready for bed before Edward arrives. Hm, where to put it? I don't want to hide it underneath the loose floorboard in my room since my caffeine pills are already there and it wouldn't do to place everything I want to keep secret in one place. My closet could work though (I'll rearrange the clothes on the bottom shelf at the very back of my closet and conceal my journal within one of the sweaters there).

* * *

While brushing my teeth, I find myself contemplating the full day I have ahead of me tomorrow. From school, I'll head straight to the hospital for group therapy. Then, I need to go into town for my first session of individual therapy (I'll be seeing some psychologist who is affiliated with the hospital—Carlisle swears by her). After my individual therapy session, it's back to the hospital to meet (also for the first time) with the lady who is to be my nutritionist. Charlie will be present for my talk with her, which means that, of all the appointments, I might be most apprehensive about this one, because not only am I wasting the nutritionist's time (a person who is, I guess, at least getting paid) but also Charlie's time, as if I haven't wasted enough of his time already. All in all, I'm just completely dreading tomorrow at this point.

I'm beginning to rethink my begging Carlisle—who made the required calls to schedule everything for me—to squeeze as many of my appointments in on Friday as possible, because, right now, I feel totally worn out just contemplating it all. He had tried to warn me that I might want to spread my appointments out, but he had ultimately acquiesced to my request, telling me that we could always adjust the days and times later on; though, I didn't like the sound of that idea then, and I still don't now, despite my current concerns. I can't tell Carlisle this, but with group therapy already taking place three days a week, it's my "goal" to make myself feel as if less of my life is being taken over by my supposed issue with food by cramming both of my once-a-week appointments in on the same day as my last group therapy session each week. I guess I'll just have to pray that I come to once again appreciate my original plan—maybe I will in the morning, after I've (hopefully) gotten some sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you so much everyone who has favorited my story and who has put me on alert and to everyone who is reading! :D I really appreciate you all doing so!**


	8. This Downward Slope

Disclaimer: I don't own "Twilight".

Chapter 8: This Downward Slope

After group therapy is over, I head outside to meet Edward. This morning, he had asked me if he could drive me to my different appointments, and I hadn't had the heart to tell him no. It's not that I don't want to be around him or that I don't appreciate his being so kind, I just really dislike feeling embarrassed in front of him. I mean, I'm clearly crazy, and the psychiatrist, psychologist, and nutritionist attempting to make me "normal" are all simply further proof of that—proof to me but also proof to Edward (as if my screaming at him as I did wasn't proof enough already).

Walking through the exit doors of the hospital, I hear an angelic voice—Edward's, of course—call hello to me.

I attempt to smile. "Hi, Edward. Thanks for driving me around and for waiting for me."

"No problem, Bella. I'm happy to do it," he responds as he closes some, but thankfully not all, of the distance between us. "So, shall we go straight to Dr. Klint's office?"

"Whose office?" I ask.

"Your psychologist's," he responds, politely pretending that I didn't ask what was possibly the stupidest question ever.

What other choice is there to going directly to her office? Gosh, he is not waiting for me to say that I want to get some food before heading there is he? No one has been asking me about my eating habits lately, and I've been so distracted by my feelings of relief over that being so that I've not stopped, prior to now, to wonder why they haven't been inquiring. Is it because they've been trying to lull me into a false sense of security? Oh no, do you they think I'm putting on weight? Yesterday, I did have a 100 calorie pack of almonds in one sitting, and while I had, at the time, comforted myself that I had only done so in order that I not allow my metabolism to slow down, it was horrifying to step on the scale before school today and discover that I've put on half a pound since then. Maybe the Cullens and Charlie have all noticed that I've, overnight, developed a new roll of fat on the back of each of my legs.

"Bella?"

Shoot, I blanked out again. At this point, I'm pretty sure that I practically live completely inside of my own head. _Time to get it together. _"Let's go directly there."

* * *

It's difficult fighting the urge to squirm as I sit here in Dr. Klint's waiting room. Edward is seated in the chair next to mine, casually flipping through a magazine. As I gaze at him, I feel a sense of calm settle over me. Originally, I had thought that I wouldn't want him to be here, but as soon as we had pulled into the parking lot next to the unassuming tan building that houses Dr. Klint's office, I had realized that there was no way I'd be able to even get myself out of Edward's Volvo if I had to come in here alone.

Okay, forget that brief experience of inner calm, the feeling has officially left me. Edward, seemingly taking note of my increasing anxiety level, sets down the magazine he has been glancing at and turns to face me. "Sweetheart, this will go fine. The first session is really just spent in casual conversation so that Dr. Klint can get a sense of who you are and of where you're coming from and so that you can start to feel relaxed with her. Before you know it, it will be over, and then it won't be so nerve-wracking the next time since you'll know better what to expect."

I want to accept Edward's soothing words, but all I can think about is the fact that, at some point, Dr. Klint will expect me to talk about actual issues and that, eventually, she, too, will try to take away the very thing that helps me the most.

He starts speaking again, but I interrupt him. Suddenly, something that I hadn't previously thought of has hit me. "Edward, don't listen in. Please?"

"Of course not. I'd never do that to you," he tells me sincerely, a look of understanding in his eyes.

* * *

A woman with brunette hair, which she has pulled back into a bun, who is dressed in professional attire and who appears to be in her mid-fifties, emerges from behind the light oak door of Dr. Klint's office. She looks questioningly at me, "Isabella?"

"Yes. Um, hi," I sputter nervously and then, overwhelmed by self-consciousness, look away.

"I'm Dr. Klint," she informs me.

I attempt to smile but manage only to grimace. Embarrassed, I shift my eyes over to Edward. Hm, she isn't going to evaluate me on my ability to maintain eye contact is she? Because that'd be rather unfortunate for me considering I seem to be unable to look her in the eye for more than a second at a time. This line of thought is making me ever more anxious—how wonderful . . . not. I glance toward her and see that she has followed my gaze to Edward. Oh, right, manners! Please don't let any of this awkward waiting room . . . meeting be part of her assessment of me. "This is Edward," I blurt out in a rush.

"Nice to meet you, Edward," Dr. Klint says.

"You too," Edward responds and rises to shake her hand.

Dr. Klint then turns to me, "Would you please come with me into my office?"

She has a nice voice and a pleasant demeanor, but the last thing I want to do is accompany her in _there_. I don't really have a say in this though, so I tell her okay and, after an encouraging grin from Edward, follow her.

* * *

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Isabella," states Dr. Klint once we're seated across from one another in her office—both of us in plush-looking chairs (though I just can't seem to get comfortable in mine).

This is therapy, and I guess that I'm supposed to have a voice, in which case I should probably tell her that I like to be called Bella. However, just as with Dr. Bancston—_oops_, Dr. Jen—, something within me keeps me from doing so. All I wind up saying (or, rather, stammering) is, "Yeah, same here. I mean, you too." Could this get any worse? I'm being called by a name I'm not that at ease being addressed by, I apparently have lost my ability to assert who I am in any way at all, and, clearly, I seem to be unable to express myself out loud without becoming a nervous wreck.

She smiles at me. "I'd like for you to tell me anything about yourself that you wish to share."

What do I say to that? My hope is to stick to the basics for as long as possible, so I guess for now I'll communicate to her the bare minimum about myself. "I'm seventeen. I attend Forks High school. I love to read." Nervously I bite my lip, unsure of how to handle the pause that has followed my brief list.

"I myself went to Forks High School," Dr. Klint shares. "Now," she clears her throat, "what you've told me is a great start, Isabella. I'd also be interested in hearing about what brought you here. Do you think you could tell me that?"

This is awkward. Carlisle told her about my food . . . concern, right? Is this some sort of test? And, hey, what happened to _casual conversation_? "I've been a little bit stressed out lately, but that's it," I say with a laugh. Maybe she'll actually buy that it's that simple. Okay, she won't, but the longer I can put off having to discuss anything "real" in here, the better.

"Now, what about this stress you've been experiencing? Could you explain that a bit more for me?" she questions.

"It's not a big deal," I reply lightly. "This is my junior year, and I'm just a little worried about my schoolwork is all. I'm sure you know how it is."

* * *

For the next forty-five minutes, we continue on in this manner—with her attempting to probe into my mind with questions and me being as evasive as possible.

* * *

When the session at last, mercifully, comes to a close, Dr. Klint walks me to the door of her office. Once there, she repeats that she'll see me at the same time next Friday and we shake hands—and with that, I'm out the door.

* * *

My eyes right away seek out Edward's. In this moment, I feel an overwhelming urge to run to him. I want to hug him and to be hugged back by him. Maybe then I could stop feeling as if I'm about to physically shatter into a million pieces. However, do I run to him and hug him? Nope, and I have no idea why not.

He stands and walks over to me. "Hey."

"Hi," I reply, before we head out to the car.

* * *

Once inside the Volvo, Edward surprises me by not beginning to drive right away. Instead, he sits there rubbing his hands on the steering wheel for a few moments. I'm unsure of what to do but am spared by him from having to come to any sort of decision.

"How did your talk go?" he inquires of me.

"It was . . . good." That isn't true, but I'm not about to say that.

"Good." I'm not sure if he is commenting on what I said or if he is actually just (partially) repeating after me, but, with that, he turns the Volvo on and pulls out.

After a few minutes of riding in silence, I feel a few tears begin to slide down my cheeks. This can't be happening right now. Why is it always in front of Edward that I'm at my most insane? Quickly, I try to wipe the tears away, but it's as if the floodgates have been opened, because now they're flowing steadily.

"What's wrong?" Edward asks softly.

I continue to cry. "I don't know." _And I truly don't._

Edward pulls the car over and then turns to me. For a moment, it looks as if he is starting to reach out to comfort me, but he doesn't do so, instead, he reaches his hand up and runs it through his hair. All of a sudden, I wish he hadn't stopped himself from touching me.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and tentatively begin to shift myself closer to him, then, I lean in to hug him. He puts one arm around me and strokes my hair with the hand of his other and doesn't say anything, for which I'm thankful, because all I want is this.

Eventually, I stop sobbing and slide back over to be fully sitting in my own seat. Once I've buckled up again, Edward begins to drive. Time to see the nutritionist.

* * *

That was absolutely horrible! Dr. Randelt—the nutritionist—and I argued over every calorie. Well, that's not true, we didn't actually bicker at all, rather, I fought with her inside of my head. In actuality, this is how it went: She asked me about my current eating habits. I lied. She looked at me with suspicion. I tried to seem innocent. She discussed her idea of a healthy approach to food consumption, an approach that includes far too many calories. I attempted to appear calm in spite of my escalating anxiety and wound up retreating into myself and not registering any more of what was said; it doesn't matter though, because I have absolutely zero intention of following her supposed advice.

* * *

"Honey, do you want to invite Edward to have dinner with us?" asks Charlie as we walk down the wide hospital hallway toward an elevator to take us to the ground floor.

I'm aware that Charlie is trying to be nice by letting me have Edward over, and I'm also aware that he is most likely kind of nervous at the idea of having a meal alone with me now that Carlisle has explained to him that some Anorexics—though that's not what I am (my food concern isn't that bad)—hide food at mealtime, but the last thing I want is for Edward to be there for this. He'll _know_ that I'm hiding food. Obviously, there's only one thing to do—I have to say no.

I begin to do so, but then I look at the worry lines on Charlie's face and at the dark bags under his eyes and find myself saying, "Sure. I'll ask him."

* * *

After Charlie, Edward, and I sit down together at the table, I place my meal plan chart in front of me—even though I already have the terrible thing memorized. How can Dr. Randelt expect me to not only place on to my plate half a cup of brown rice, one-and-a-half ounces of chicken (so, according to her, my piece should be equivalent in size to half of a deck of playing cards), and a minimum—a minimum!—of one cup of vegetables but to actually consume all of it? Plus, she wants me to drink eight ounces of whole milk. The milk alone consists of 150 calories! That's not even the worst of it though. Dr. Randelt says that I also need to have a snack after dinner. The one that she suggested I have today is a slice of raisin toast and another eight-ounce glass of whole milk. If I were to actually follow this "plan," I'd blow up like a gargantuan balloon before even heading upstairs for bed tonight.

"This looks excellent!" exclaims Charlie far too enthusiastically. He makes no move to touch what's on his plate, and, instead, he just continues to stare at me with a forced smile on his face.

Oh my gosh, I'm going to have to take a bite. With my fork, I carefully separate a piece of broccoli from the absolutely mammoth pile of mixed vegetables in front of me and cut it into five tiny pieces before lifting one of them to my mouth. After chewing for what seems like ages, I know that I can no longer put off the unavoidable—I attempt not to gag as I swallow the bit of broccoli down. This is awful—this whole experience is! No one seems to understand that this—whatever _this_ is—isn't just about the calories, this is also about the fact that I _need_ for my stomach to be in pain.

I glance up and see that Edward is pretending to eat but that Charlie is still watching me. This means that I'm going to have to have another bite . . . and possibly even a few more after that.

* * *

This is too much for me. I need to get away from the table. "I'm sorry," I say, hanging my head.

"What is it?" Charlie asks.

"The food. I can't eat anymore."

I raise my eyes from my lap in time to see Charlie and Edward exchange a look with one another.

"That's okay. You did really well, kiddo!" Charlie tells me as he reaches out and pats my hand.

"Yeah, Bella, you did great!" says Edward.

This is terrible, I'm being coddled. "Uh, if you two are done, I'll clear the table and start in on washing the dishes."

"I can do them tonight," offers Charlie.

"No, that's okay. I want to do them. Besides, isn't there a game on tonight? I thought there was one you'd circled in the _TV Guide_?"

"I'll help Bella with the dishes, sir," Edward breaks in.

At that, Charlie, thankfully, relents.

* * *

After a few minutes of wordlessly working on the dishes—with me washing and Edward drying—Edward begins to speak.

"You really should be proud of yourself," he tells me, sounding serious.

I'm not sure what to say, so I just give a noncommittal shrug of my shoulders.

"No, I really mean it. Who cares if you didn't have everything on your plate tonight? It doesn't mean that tomorrow or the next day you won't. You just have to give yourself time. This _will_ get easier, love."

Except that I don't want eating to get easier. I _want _to continue avoiding it. Not that he can ever know that though. "Thanks," I say—avoiding meeting his eyes.

* * *

**Author's Note: As always, thank you so much to everyone who has favorited me and added me on alert! Thank you to everyone who's reading! :D I really appreciate you all!**


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